


Soundless Voice

by Lord_KH



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: F/M, Fate & Destiny, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Misunderstandings, Slow Burn, Social Links | Confidants (Persona Series)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:40:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26958205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_KH/pseuds/Lord_KH
Summary: For Makoto Niijima, life has been about silencing her true voice in order to fit in and do what the adults have told her to. In a whirlwind half year, that has completely flipped on its head, thanks to one special individual who has come into her life. She counts her heart among the others that he has stolen as a Phantom Thief, but she doesn't have a voice that can properly communicate how she feels. Armed with only a letter that attempts to capture those feelings, Makoto attempts to let her true voice finally be heard.
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Niijima Makoto, Kurusu Akira/Niijima Makoto, Niijima Makoto/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52
Collections: ShuMako Mini Bang





	Soundless Voice

_ Wednesday, 10/5/20XX, Shujin Academy Student Council Office, Early Morning... _

“Um...Miss President?”

Makoto snapped to attention, shyly tugging her hand out of the Shujin book bag leaning against her chair. “My apologies...The, erm, festival, that's...what we were discussing, yes?”

The two Shujin students sitting across from her nodded, puzzled. “Uh, y-yes! It is a bit strange to start it on a Tuesday, but we really don’t see any other option,” the girl, Ueda, said with a sigh.

The boy, Kitase, shrugged. “What else can we do? The vice principal -”

“Tuesday will be fine,” Makoto answered softly, her crimson eyes looking up only briefly, “I’ll pass it on to the faculty office.”

A soft tune rang out behind the sliding door. First bell.

“If there’s nothing else, let’s adjourn for now. We’ll meet back with everyone Friday afternoon” Makoto’s cabinet members met eyes before getting up and bowing respectfully to their president, a gesture Makoto acknowledged briefly with a nod. 

While Kitase jogged out the door, Makoto and Ueda stayed behind to gather their things. The eerie feeling of a lingering stare forced Makoto to look over at her vice-president. Ueda, like Makoto, forgoed the traditional Shujin blazer, instead complimenting her long-sleeved shirt with a pair of overalls clasped onto her skirt. Her plump face had a look of worry on it.

“We’ll do our best to make sure that the preparations for the festival doesn’t interrupt your studies as much, Niijima-san,” Ueda nearly whispered as she bowed again. Makoto felt her heart twist a little.

“Ah, p-please!” she reassured the poor girl, “it’s really my fault more than anything. I wouldn’t need this day off if I had managed my time better. Speaking of, you ought to get to class. Have a nice day, and thank you for your hard work.” The smile punctuating the compliment was so plastic it hurt her face to maintain it.

Ueda looked back up, a content smile on her face as she repeated the sentiment back before grabbing her bag off the table and following Kitase out into the crowded, noisy hallway. The only reason the Student Council wasn’t meeting that afternoon was its president, citing concerns about her preparedness for university entrance exams starting later that month. With Ueda gone, Makoto quickly let the smile go, beginning to feel the weight of all the little lies in her life piling up.

Alone and with a few moments to spare, she reached inside her bag again and felt for the small white coin envelope nestled within. In the light of the room she read the name scratched on the front for the hundredth time that morning: 

_ “Ren” _

It took her only seconds to recount nearly all of the contents of the letter contained within, an easy task considering she had painstakingly stitched it together from her own jumbled, messy thoughts and feelings over the course of a few weeks.

Makoto couldn’t remember the last time she had written an actual letter. In fact, she would have to go back to her childhood to find the last time she gleefully used to write something other than answers on a worksheet: a little diary given to her by her late father. Bespeckled in the black and white spots of her favorite mascot character, Buchimaru-kun, the diary was filled with the frequent yet banal hopes, dreams, fears, and doubts of any emotional pre-teen: future careers, her schoolmates, her family. Once he died and her sister Sae became much more rigid and insistent on Makoto freeing herself of needless distractions, it felt like writing in the diary was just that, a distraction. It now served an honorable role in her cabinet of associated Buchimaru memorabilia, a paperweight as light and empty as the thoughts that had been written in it.

This was mostly what Makoto had resigned her feelings to be over the years - inconvenient. Was it  _ fair _ that she was expected to be as perfect as her sister and father? Not at all. Did it  _ hurt _ when peers gossiped about her and said she was cold? So much. Could she  _ feel _ the anger, bitterness, and shame start to mold her into someone she didn’t want to be? Without a doubt. But what did it matter? As her sister always reminded her, the world wasn’t fair, nor was it just. Those things had to be fought for, and one didn’t win any battles by talking about how they felt - they grew out of their childish emotions and achieved anyways. In a seemingly never-ending war for fair treatment that demanded tangible results, what good were her feelings going to do? Better to just hold her head up and keep quiet. It was a lonely life, but she just wasn’t sure there was a place to voice those feelings in an adult world, no place for her  _ voice _ , period, to truly speak her mind.

Until  _ he  _ came along and messed everything up.

_ “Ren” _

Second bell, late bell, was now blaring over the loudspeakers. Makoto quickly scooted out of the meeting room, knowing that even her goodwill as Student Council president would only afford her a couple extra minutes. Focusing on class, however, was going to be easier said than done. Lunchtime. That’s all she had to wait for.

Then  _ finally _ her voice would be heard.

* * *

The lunch bell was a hosanna from on high. Makoto could only hope she didn’t seem too out-of-character as she dashed through her usual process; the fast pace was supposed to keep her from thinking too much about what she was about to. If asked, perhaps she could convince her peers she was rushing to grab some of the wildly popular bread from the school co-op. She scooped the envelope out of her bag, treating it like it was a piece of glass rather than the pliable stock paper it was. 

Within a single blink she was already on the set of stairs leading to the second floor, nimbly dodging all the people making a break for their lockers. Luckily, even amongst a sea of students, Makoto knew she would be able to pluck out her target with the greatest of ease. Sure enough, he was waltzing out of his classroom as she stepped off the stairwell.

Ren Amamiya was an unsolvable puzzle. By all accounts, he wasn’t worth more than what his transcript had deemed him back in March: an unremarkable student with a criminal record. He had left Makoto’s mind as quickly as he had entered, another black and red statistic for her to gesture vaguely to when addressing the school at her graduation ceremony. The criminal angle had gotten him some attention for a while, but some six months into his school year he was just another uniform, hardly given a second glance in the hallway by formerly nasty and terrified peers. If it bugged him at all, it was hard to tell; even now, the slouch in his gait never changed and he always kept his head down, dark grey eyes cloaked by the lenses of plastic-frame glasses and a frizzy mop of black hair.

Before she could grab his attention, his black veil lifted, and Makoto found herself nearly parlyzed. 

All of a sudden she was transported back a few months, locking eyes with Ren for the first time on the school roof. She had been strong-armed by her principal into sniffing out a mysterious group of “Phantom Thieves” who seem to be operating from Shujin. Yet when she confronted Ren, her biggest suspect, his eyes, shockingly big and gentle despite his reputation, stared  _ through _ her, as if totally unphased by her glowering gaze. There was a firmness  _ and  _ a softness to his stare; unafraid of what she was threatening him with, yet concerned that he had made an enemy. His calm acquiescence with her demand to leave, while also never breaking eye contact, forced Makoto to lower her own eyes as he brushed past her, the harsh voice she had just been wielding suddenly snuffed out. Even in compliance, he had bested her  _ utterly _ . 

Makoto had always considered herself quite capable of succeeding above and beyond already high expectations - whether it was through academic work or in a student council planning session, Makoto rarely found herself unable to rise to the challenge of a problem that stood in her path. Her voice, though not truly her own, was sharp and direct, the veneer of authority languishing quietly in the corner of her mouth any time she took command. Her peers may not have  _ liked  _ her, but she knew they  _ respected  _ her, and that mattered more. She could most often see it in their eyes, which so frequently fled from her unflinching, frequently icy visage. 

But the rigor of the classroom and the student council office could never have prepared her for the challenge presented by a newly transferred 2nd year student with an alluring aura of both danger and grace. 

After meeting him, she had thought long and hard about the Phantom Thieves and all their ridiculousness about “stealing hearts.” Hearts, Makoto told herself, weren’t something that could simply be removed and tuned for the better. What kind of fantasy nonsense was that? They only hardened in response to a cruel reality, like her sister’s had. Like hers had. Why would Ren be any different? He was isolated from his hometown, branded a menace to society, and on the lowest possible social chain at school, so why wouldn’t his heart have done the same? But she couldn’t deny the feelings that had stirred within her as Ren looked at her, feelings that betrayed her suspicion of him as some sort of evil thrillseeker. It had to be some sort of trick! It...It had to be, didn’t it? Otherwise…

All of these events flashed by in a microsecond, before her brain even truly registered that he was looking at her, specifically. A small smile and casual wave brought Makoto out of her trance. The sheepishness with which she had been carrying the envelope vanished; she gripped it with both hands as if it were going to fly away. This was her chance now, wasn’t it? He was only a yard or so away at the end of the hall, but it may as well have been at the bottom of Mementos. 

_ Just hand him the letter, _ the voice inside her, which, thanks to Ren and the other Phantom Thieves leading her into the mystical Metaverse, she had come to know as Johanna, advised firmly _. _ Carefully, step by step, Makoto willed herself forward, not sure if her actual movement was as rigid and forced and awkward as it felt in her head. Yards turned to inches, the kids around her disappearing into noise, faceless shadows that seemed to part just for her. Ren muttered something, but Makoto couldn’t hear it over the racket of her soul.  _ Now _ !  _ Do it now! _ It raged with all its might,  _ Let him hear your voice _ !

“R-”

“Oh, Makoto, hey! What’s up?”

The filters in her mind vanished as a wave of blonde hair blocked out Ren. Makoto was now deeply aware of how  _ exposed _ she was: the crowded hallway was absolutely  _ packed  _ with noisy students, plenty of whom would be witness to her delivery. And now, next to Ren, stood Ann Takamaki, one of their other good friends. In contrast with Ren’s zen calmness, Ann was bubbly and bright as always, her body gently swaying to a tune only she could hear. 

“Me and this guy were gonna go meet Ryuji at the vending machines. You wanna come with? I have some sweets you  _ totally _ need to try!” Ann explained, her ocean-like eyes gleaming with excitement as she slid her elbow on to Ren’s shoulder. Makoto fought hard to contain the nasty envy she felt from the casual way Ann leaned into him.

“You should, would be fun.” Ren’s deep voice vibrated inside Makoto’s rattled mind. She meant to respond but he was quicker. “What’s that?”

She followed his and Ann’s line of sight down to her hands, where the envelope stood quivering. Her hands must have been acting on their own, for the poor little thing had now sustained a thorough squeezing. Makoto’s breath quickened and her sharp brain struggled to come up with something,  _ anything _ .

“U-um, well, it’s, erm…” Makoto stuttered, turning to Ann. There was far less anxiety staring into the surf of Ann’s eyes, but still only silence followed. 

Why did something like this have to happen  _ again _ ?. On the school trip to Hawaii in September, she had worked up the courage to be honest about her feelings and managed to text an invite to Ren about spending some time at the beach alone, but he hadn’t responded and she never found out why. She realized that she was far from the only person vying for his attention, but it was very easy to get wrapped up thinking he was bothered by her text. That insecurity caused Makoto to distance herself somewhat, and it was only recently that she felt brave enough to try something like this again.

The jealousy sitting like a stone in her stomach was another deeply despised side-effect. Ann was a dear friend, but she was the Yin to Makoto’s Yang: tall, disarmingly charming, and exotically beautiful. If they were in a competition of affection, Makoto had little doubt Ann would trounce her. There was zero indication aside from her own paranoia that this was true in Ren’s case, but the mere possibility sat like a mine in her synapses, disrupting the logical transmission that Ann wasn’t a threat and leaving only a confused pain.

The student council president wracked her brain thoroughly, trying to figure out a way she could construct a plausible excuse out of the tempest raging inside her. Barely, something managed to come out. “S-Student Council voted this morning on when the culture festival was going to take place. These are the results,” she said as if in a trance, holding up the envelope so the “ _ Ren”  _ on the front faced her instead.

Ann was visibly confused as to why Makoto was staring at her rather than Ren. “O-oh! Neat, I guess? Sooo why do you have it now?”

“I’m…” Makoto felt her eyes waver toward Ren, but she didn’t dare let them. Somehow she knew that whatever the look on his face was it would be too much to bear, so she let her reflexive response continue. “I’m taking it to th-the faculty room! So they can plan their courses around it. In fact, I-I should probably get going…”

Ann twisted her head like a confused puppy, which set Makoto on edge. The quizzical look on her face faded fast, however, and the taller girl playfully stuck her tongue out. “Bo-ring! But duty calls, right? If you get done in time, come by and say hi, okay? C’mon, mister,” she teased Ren, moving her arm to his back and gently pushing him forward past Makoto, “I’m gonna have you and Ryuji  _ wishing _ you had relatives in…”

Her energetic voice trailed off as the two moved down the hallway. Makoto didn’t dare look back for a while, until she was sure they were gone. Once the coast was clear she walked briskly back to the stairwell and up to the third floor, wanting to go lay her head on her desk for the rest of eternity.

* * *

Final bell seemed like it would never come. Try as she might, Makoto had not been able to weather the storm of negative feelings emerging from the clouds of lunch. As the rest of her classmates hurriedly filed out for the day, Makoto took it out once again. Her panicked squeezing of the envelope had caused some ridging, although she hoped not to the detriment of the letter inside. It was already unreadable, sure, but she didn’t want it to be  _ illegible _ too.

She couldn’t explain it, but looking at the tangible proof that, no matter her trepidation or jealousy towards Ann, her feelings were real, it gave her... _ hope. _ It was Yusuke, of all people, that gave her the idea. He was pontificating on the beauty of art while they were waiting for the rest of the group to show up at Leblanc a week earlier, when he offhandedly mentioned that “Man’s true emotions are laid bare on the canvass, which is the perfect blank slate for the unspeakably beautiful.” Dramatic and flowery as ever, but it was a spark. Makoto had always excelled when it came to communicating through writing, so if she couldn’t quite vocalize the feelings inside her, her true voice, perhaps writing them could prove more successful. They had some time, too; their new friend Haru Okumura, who was the daughter of the Thieves' latest target, still had some time before she was truly in danger. Everything had lined up for her. 

So she wrote, and wrote, and wrote. It took her almost a week, but she wanted to get it right, or as “right” as an explosion of barely-understood feelings could be. In the end, she had filled an entire sheet of paper, doing her very best to express what Ren meant to her, what that meant in her heart. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do; the idea of rejection seemed quaint compared to this odd limbo she found herself in, not able to look her good friend in the eye and finding herself maddeningly jealous of others for the silliest things. 

Suddenly, a chill seemed to sneak right under her white school shirt and tickle her spine, like the air conditioner poked her. Makoto flinched and turned in her seat, only to see the last gasp of a black Shujin blazer with an unkempt mop of hair disappear from the doorway of the classroom. 

... _ Ren!? _

Leaping to her feet, Makoto went to pursue, but hissed under her breath as she went back and grabbed her bag and the letter from her desk. It was only a few seconds, but by the time she reached the hallway, there was no sign of him. Biting her lip, she took a second to calm down and quickly headed to the second floor, which was less full than it was at lunch. Still, amidst all the black and red, Ren’s familiar slouch could not be found. She was about to head over to his classroom when a low whistle pierced her ears.

“ _ Daamnn _ , you too? At this rate Ann oughta get busted fer dealin’ drugs...”

Makoto gasped and turned to see Ryuji Sakamoto, the last of her Shujin friends, casually leaning up against the wall near the stairwell. Predictably, his appearance suggested what he thought of Shujin’s dress code: jacket unbuttoned, pants rolled up, suspenders limping around his waist. ‘You guys’?

“Wh-what do you mean?” she asked nervously, feeling her fist curl around the letter again.

“‘S what I said,” he snickered through a toothy grin, “First Ren, now you, you guys ‘r runnin’ around like yer hair’s on fire. Ann was hypin’ ‘em up, but  _ I  _ thought- ”

“Wait, Ren!?” Makoto snapped, her heart leaping into overdrive, “You saw Ren? Just now!?”

Ryuji rubbed his shock of canary-dyed hair, faltering under Makoto’s intense gaze. “U-uh, yeah, so? Didn’t you?” The look on her face must have said all it needed to. “Ren said he was goin’ upstairs to chat with you, then headin’ out to Shinjuku. Figured he was goin’ to see if he could score some more ‘o that -”

_ Shinjuku! _ Another flood of memories flowed through Makoto, this time sweeping her back to a time Ren took her to the infamous district as per her request. The stressed paper in her hand wheezed some more as she remembered the defining moment of the day: him confidently pretending to be her boyfriend to pluck her away from pushy barkers, grabbing her hand to do so. A bold action that only served to stir even bolder feelings in Makoto, feelings that lived on in jumbled paragraphs hidden in her bag.

But even more curious: he told Ryuji that he had gone upstairs to talk with  _ her _ ? Why hadn’t he? And what on  _ earth _ could he be up to in Shinjuku? There was no time to waste. She  _ had _ to get moving and hopefully catch him before he boarded the train.

“Th-thank you, Ryuji,” she said quietly, interrupting Ryuji’s extended monologue on the perils of foreign chocolate, “I-I need to go, now.”

She was nearly on the first floor stairwell by the time Ryuji’s response caught up to her. “They weren’t even that good! The  _ eff, _ man…”

* * *

_ “Yamanote Line. Now entering: Shinjuku Station.” _

The announcement tore Makoto from her spying session and back to an upright position. She once again bumped uncomfortably between the two pairs of shoulders that sandwiched her as the train began to stop. The car’s passengers rose seemingly as one, a fleshy tidal wave that threatened to sweep her with it unless she stood her ground. Shinjuku station was one of the busiest in the world and serviced many lines that would ferry people across nearly all of Tokyo’s wards; this mass exodus was probably a little below its normal traffic, considering Makoto actually didn’t feel like she was being torn apart by the crowd and could actually move a bit.

She had run faster than she could ever remember once Ryuji informed her about Ren’s destination. The station wasn’t far from the school, but for all she knew she was already too late. Once she finally made it to the line connecting Shibuya and then Shinjuku, the train was on its last call. Hope more than logic guided her into the train, but she had been amazed to see that Ren was in the next car over, whispering quietly into his bag; only Makoto could have known that he was talking to his supernatural cat, Morgana, and not losing his mind. The somewhat long ride had been a careful dance between keeping an eye on him and not wanting to come across as a stalker. She cursed herself for being so upset and not just texting him earlier to meet up after school, but there was no turning back now.

A deep breath helped calm her enough to make another bold attempt. Lashed on for dear life to one of the handles above her Makoto leaned forward carefully, carefully - she had fought shadows with less care than she took in this action - and once again stole a glance at the door window in front of her. It was hard to see, but there was a tuft of frizzy black hair still sticking out amongst the waves of people. Ren was playing it Bogart, as usual; there seemed to be hardly anything that bothered him enough to even remove his hands from his pockets, least of all the threat of being trampled. 

Then he turned his head towards the window.

_ Did he see me!? _

With no time to even gasp in surprise, Makoto thrust herself into the horde, pushing, shoving, elbowing, and gouging her way towards the doors, which had just opened. Her braided, auburn hair band was almost knocked askew and she could have  _ sworn _ someone grabbed at her plaid skirt, but she managed to squeeze through and out onto the platform in just enough time. A quick check confirmed that everything she had on her person had survived the journey, including the black bag slung over her shoulder and the letter, still wheezing in her left hand.

The envelope was on life support. By now it bore the scars of roughly half a day’s worth of strangling, ridged lines dominating the bottom half. Ren was probably going to think she was some sort of obsessed fangirl, Makoto thought glumly. Before she could further mentally flog herself, she saw Ren stroll out of the crowd on the platform and move toward the concrete steps leading up to the Shinjuku entrance. Makoto wasted no time in pursuing him, muttering apologies as she squeezed her way through the hordes coming into and out of the city. She tucked the letter into her bag, figuring her hands weren’t the safest place for it at the moment.

Even in the daytime, Shinjuku was menacing to anyone with even the slightest inclination toward taste. Gaudy signs that glowed neon once the sun went down were packed like sardines, advertising any number of dark enterprises. Barkers, although not an uncommon sight in any city, were more aggressive in Shinjuku, peddling any matter of vice with less shame than the lowest animal. Like the rest of Tokyo it had tall buildings and a sense of modernity, but that all served to further highlight the seediness of it all. It was the domain of the 18+ demographic, which made Makoto all the more concerned as to why Ren seemed to hang out there so much.

But that was just another one of the many fascinating facets of Ren. Makoto had felt mature until she met him; she never knew anyone who could waltz into any situation and act like he’d been doing it his entire life. Whereas Makoto hesitated engaging with anybody while touring the city, Ren replied to almost every mountebank and salesperson, just to show her that their bark was worse than their bite. Makoto had always felt safest when she was in charge, but it was only with Ren that she felt she could let her guard down for once. 

Belonging, or at least the feeling of it, was the one thing Makoto had come to cherish most of all. Ren, Ann, Ryuji, Yusuke, and even odd little Futaba Sakura were all people she cared deeply for, and she wished to help them as much as they helped her, even if she didn’t express it that way. As “Queen,” Makoto was the Phantom Thieves’ top intelligence gatherer, and they depended on her for both strategy and guidance. But as great as belonging was, she wanted even more to be  _ heard _ ; not as just the voice of authority, but a person with wants, dreams, and needs.

Like she needed Ren. 

She  _ had _ to let him know, and she couldn’t stop until the deed was done and the letter delivered.

* * *

Moving into the main streets, Makoto recognized the dilapidated theater that stood on the corner. A friend of hers, Eiko, worked at a club further down the road from it, meaning this was about the same area that she and Ren had covered in their journey. Sure enough, she caught sight of him once again, this time exiting a questionable bookstore on the left side of the street. Makoto was out in the open and still in her uniform - she was in a bad spot and she knew it. She wasn’t ready to let Ren see her, not yet. She needed a disguise and fast!

Unfortunately, this wasn’t her area of expertise. Without thinking she grabbed at a nearby advertisement that a barker was passing out, ignoring his vulgar language, just wanting something to cover her face. She was happy to discover that it was a crudely put together magazine of sorts, but as she spread it wide and pulled it in front of her face, she was flabbergasted at the rather large breasts that now consumed her vision. Evidently she had picked out a hostess ad book that was rather proud of its featured girls. Makoto winced but carried on, hopeful that she wouldn’t have to keep up this act long.

Ren looked around for a bit before ducking into an alley on the east side of the street. As Makoto moved into a better viewing position, carefully keeping Ren in view over the top of the magazine, she experienced a rather profound sense of deja-vu. A little after their rooftop conversation back in May, Makoto had taken to following Ren around after school, to see if she could nail him doing whatever it was Phantom Thieves did. She even used the same method of disguise, although her choice in magazine was more informative than titillating.

She watched him enter a book store in Shibuya and leave with a bag full of books, then go to the underground mall and work for a few hours at a flower shop. Sometimes he vanished into Big Bang Burger and tackled an impossibly large hamburger, just for a lark. Other times he would meet up with people, an eclectic mix of classmates and, surprisingly, adults who he would spend time with. It was a deeply confusing potpourri of information that didn’t seem to really add up to anything, and if he truly was a delinquent, it only made sense as some sort of Machiavellian web of lies and deceit.

Only when Makoto found herself entangled in his life as both a friend and a fellow Phantom Thief could she finally process it all. Ren’s curiosity and empathy ran incredibly deep, meaning he naturally attracted a large and varied sort of people. Makoto remembered confessing her embarrassment of not really knowing much outside her specific interests, and while he teased her a little, he never made her feel like she was a lesser person for it. He preferred to be her friend and help her be better rather than use that knowledge to coerce her into doing things she didn’t want to do. Not exactly a revelation, but she wasn’t used to that kind of relationship, and she found herself deeply smitten.

While she never got any information that pertained to the case against him as a Phantom Thief, dozens of details about  _ him _ had been etched permanently into her mind. His hair, always immaculately messy, tended to curl right down between his glasses, just a hair or two above his nose. Whenever he walked, he tended to first put his right hand into his pocket, as if that was confirmation that it was safe to put his left in its respective place. Whenever he was nervous, he would place his hand on his neck and stretch it out, as if cracking the bones there gave him some sort of confidence. Mostly, she memorized how he would get a sneaky, mischievous glint in one eye while the sun caught the glasses lens on his other, obscuring that eye behind a bright glare. 

Trying not to get too lost in nostalgia, Makoto kept inching closer toward him, approaching from the right side and staying conspicuously close to a pillar facing the rest of the alley he entered. It felt dangerous to stay in one place for too long, considering how she was dressed and the magazine she was holding and what that  _ probably  _ looked like to the average Shinjuku resident, but she couldn’t see a better vantage point. Leaning against the outer-facing side, Makoto held the magazine up and as she peered out over the pillar, confused at what she saw.

Ren was sitting at a rinky-dink table that was set up against the same building Makoto was leaning up against, but she couldn’t quite see why. Whomever was on the other side of the table was carefully hidden by some sandwich board signs and the shade of some nearby awnings. They must have been interesting company; Makoto couldn’t hear the conversation but Ren was sitting up and alert, a serious look etched across his normally gentle features.

After a few minutes of that, Makoto’s curiosity got the best of her. She carefully shimmied along the pillar until she was on the side facing the north end of the street, which now gave her an unfettered view of Ren and his mysterious confidant. The ad book fumbled around in her hands as she almost dropped it when she saw who it was.

It was a girl - no, a  _ woman _ sitting across from him. She immediately stood out: her hair was long and straw-yellow, more exotically blonde than even Ann’s, stylized by a black headband. That wasn’t where it ended, either - the dress she wore over her long-sleeved shirt was purple and shimmery, odd astrological signs drawing the eye up and down her slim figure. Most notable of all were her eyes, glowing the same amethyst color as her dress, and somehow more alluring. Who in the world  _ was _ she?

Makoto tried to keep her thin shield up, but the more she looked over at them, the tighter the cramp in her stomach got. It was sadly familiar - she’d gotten the same cramp any time she sent Ren a text that was “read” but not answered, or when she saw him getting chummy with Ann. She was glad she had put the letter away, as the pages of the ad book were now suffering greatly from her ever-tightening grip.

It was difficult to see, but there appeared to be objects on the table that the two were looking at. Given that the woman flipped a few over in a sequence, Makoto could infer that they were cards of some sort. She wasn’t completely hip to the kinds of styles people wore, but she had her doubts that someone who looked like her was running a playing card table. What else could it be, then? She wanted so badly to get closer, and her toes nearly dug through her shoe and into the ground to anchor her in place to avoid doing so. 

Whatever it was, it took Ren by surprise. He sat up quickly, looking at the cards on the table and back at the woman twice over, seemingly in disbelief. Some more mouth movements, followed by the woman nodding her head, a bit of a smile on her face. Why were they acting like that? After a few seconds of silence, the woman’s hand reached out and slowly came to rest on top of Ren’s, gently patting the top of his hand every few seconds.

* * *

Makoto’s first reaction was of two minds: on the one hand, of course it made sense. Of  _ course _ . Ren was, while not necessarily tall, definitely dark and handsome, and clearly had a confidence around himself that was very attractive. And just by looking at her, this woman with her aura of both mystery and mysticism seemed like the perfect fit for someone like him. She hadn’t expected him to be into older women, but it was hardly the first surprising thing about Ren.

But on the other hand, there were already tears swimming around her eyes from the distress of it all. The magazine fully crumpled as her fists started trembling, forcing her to turn back toward the street entrance. She tossed it away and lurched away from the alley, bringing her hands to her heart and feeling it beating erratically. It was impossible to ignore the burning stares of the people around her, but she didn’t care as she pressed on somewhat aimlessly.

She felt stupid, most of all. All this time, trapped in her head about Ren and the memories of time spent with him, and yet she knew the truth from the beginning: her  _ real _ voice had no place. Her role in life was to be the perfect student and fearless, intelligent strategist for the Phantom Thieves; there wasn’t a place for her to express her emotions because it wasn’t what interested people. She belonged, but only at a certain distance. Why had she even tried? The answer evaded her as sobs began to worm their way through her chest.

Almost subconsciously, Makoto spirited the envelope containing her messy letter out of her bag, looking at the poor crumpled thing through blurry eyes. This  _ damn _ letter, she thought. If it wasn’t for that, she wouldn’t have had to go through this day and experience setback after setback and eventually heartbreak. Time that could have been spent doing something that would help her friends was  _ wasted  _ on this thing. She couldn’t silence the emotions that raged within, but this letter, which was brought to life by it, could be disposed of. Shaky fingers reached to the two opposite sides, ready and willing to shred the thing and be done with it, be done with these useless emotions, be done with this  _ day.  _ She hesitated briefly as the  _ Ren _ on the front surfaced into her view, which brought on another sob.  _ I’m sorry _ , she thought. Maybe once she got rid of this she could finally put to bed all the restless nights, daydreaming, and the lying. Hopefully.

Just as the envelope edge started tearing, something broke through Makoto’s overwhelmed senses.

“ _ Makoto? _ Is that...you!?”

She should have just started running

* * *

Nothing good, not a single solitary  _ thing _ , was going to come if she addressed the deep, concerned voice calling out her name. She worried even more that ignoring him would give him the wrong idea. In spite of how hurt she was at that moment, there was no doubt that she couldn’t bear the thought of harming the relationship they already had. As she had always thought, her feelings were just a nuisance, to be dealt with like any other problem. Like an adult.

She carefully rubbed her left eye, where a tear or two had begun to trickle down, and took a deep, shaky breath that hopefully blasted out any remaining sobs. As she turned around, she hoped her face wasn’t too red. “R-Ren!?” she stuttered, desperately searching for the voice she always used when she needed to hide. “Wh-what are you doing here?” Behind her, the envelope remained clutched in her hand, its execution stayed.

If she looked out of sorts, it bounced off Ren, who looked as taciturn as he had earlier in the day. “Well, that’s…” A rare moment of uncertainty seemed to flash across his glasses as he pushed them up his nose, catching a glare. “N-nothing important. What about you? You used to be too scared to come here by yourself.”

He couldn’t have known, but his response was yet another dagger to her heart. Not only was he obviously lying, but his comment made her think again of the fun they had together in Shinjuku before. Her grip on both the bag slung over her shoulder and the letter tightened considerably as she tried to make something up. “O-oh, I…” It was hard to talk around the lump forming in her throat. Absent-mindedly she looked past Ren, which got him to glance over his shoulder. His eyes then lit up a bit.

“Oh, doesn’t your friend...Eiko, I think? Doesn’t she work around here?” he asked.

_ Of course _ he remembered her name. God, could he stop being... _ himself _ , for two seconds, she thought Makoto’s memory lurched again as she recalled when the two of them spotted a Shujin student going into a seedy hostess club during their Shinjuku excursion. In investigating, Makoto had come to know the student, Eiko Takao, quite well, as had Ren, who was helping Makoto get to know Eiko and her boyfriend by posing as Makoto’s…

It hurt too much to even think about.

As she waded further into despair, Ren kept asking questions. “...trying to talk some sense into her?’

“Right, right, Eiko,” she half-mumbled to herself, realizing Ren’s question had given her an out, “I dropped off some huh-homework for her.” She had come  _ so _ close, but the growing agony tore into her voice just as she was finishing up. Johanna was practically bouncing off the walls of her skull, inciting Makoto to rid herself of the burden she had been carrying, but to no avail. Strong as her will was, her anger toward herself was even stronger.

While she mentally shushed Johanna, Ren’s face fell from his gentle smile to a more concerned look. Another dagger. “Are you...okay? Makoto?”

Makoto didn’t have much left in the tank, so she looked for a quick out. “I-I just need to get home. I’m suh-sorry....” 

Step one complete. Step two was turning away and heading home, something she had done a million times before but now might as well have been scaling Mt. Fuji. Makoto couldn’t shake the feeling that as soon as she turned around, that was  _ it. _ The week it had taken to write the letter, the months of confusing, wonderful feelings, the years that she had hoped they may spend together...gone. Dealing with blackmail from the mob boss Junya Kaneshiro hadn’t been as difficult as this. 

But Makoto knew that now was no time to be selfish. Above all, Ren was still her friend, and her role was to be happy for him and support him, even when it hurt. Sae was right - she always was: at some point you had to put your feelings aside in order to achieve the best outcome. She tore her eyes away from Ren and stepped back, feeling like time had slowed to a crawl as she fully turned toward the exit to the train station. She quickly moved her hand in front of her, concealing the letter from sight again, fully intending to trash it as soon as she got to the station. 

“Makoto, w-wait!”

Ren suddenly blew past her, blocking her path. She tried to say something, but only a squeak of surprise made it out of her mouth. Somehow, she managed to whisk the letter behind her back again before Ren could notice it.

It was rare to see such an uncertain look in Ren’s eyes, even rarer to find him at a loss for words. “I-I was...I haven’t…” he sighed, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose and looking serious, “I went to see a...fortune teller.”

“...A  _ what?” _ Makoto uttered, more to herself than anything. Her first reaction was a painful one: she had been beaten to the punch by some street vendor who sold snake oil for a living? A more rational Makoto could acknowledge the cognitive dissonance between her very existence as a Phantom Thief and the relatively tame concept of clairvoyance, but she wasn’t in a very rational mood. 

As her guts twisted themselves tighter, Ren continued. “Yeah, a fortune teller...I never said anything because, well...I d-didn’t think you guys would believe me…” Sheepishly, he rubbed the back of his head and turned his eyes away, a faint blush brushing across his nose. Makoto hated how cute she thought that looked.

The words that came out were a gut reaction. “Sh-she seems lovely, I’m very happy for you…!”  _ No! _ Johanna scolded her once again, but Makoto didn’t even try to listen anymore. She tried to focus on the ground as she went to move past Ren, but he stepped in front of her again.

“Woah, hang on, hu-how did you know that it was a woman?” Ren asked incredulously. “Did you...see me talking to her? Do you think....!?” 

Makoto was speechless, her eyes quickly filling up with tears. How could she have been so stupid as to just blurt it out!? “R-Ren, I - “

Ren started to frantically speak before her frazzled brain could respond. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but i-it’s not like  _ that! _ Really…” How could she believe that? Up until now, he wasn’t even willing to admit why he was in Shinjuku in the first place. 

But he wasn’t done. “I came to see her, because, well, it was about  _ you.”  _ Makoto’s head suddenly shot up, some kind of gasp pinballing its way out her mouth and into the late afternoon air. What was he saying? “Today, when we talked in the hall, it felt off. B-but even before then - for a while now, actually! - things with you have seemed... _ different _ .”

She turned her face to try and hide it, but Makoto could feel a tear glide down her cheek and stop to take a breather. Her breathing wasn’t any better, becoming stilted and short as they struggled to get around the ever-increasing pressure in her chest.

“I meant to say something at school, but I didn't want to leave it up to chance.That’s why I knew I had to come see her...Mifune-san has been right about a lot of things, and when she said that I was in danger of losing the High Pries- I mean,  _ y-you,  _ I didn’t know what to think. I...I don’t want to lose our friendship. I don’t want to lose  _ you _ .”

Even Ren’s baffling embrace of new-age speak about destiny and priestesses couldn’t shake Makoto from hyper-focusing on what she just heard.  _ “I don’t want to lose you _ .” It repeated on loop in her head, over and over again, drowning out the wailing of Shinjuku all around them. 

Trapped in the void as she was, she could barely make out Ren speaking again. “Makoto, please...I-if there’s been something that’s been bothering you,  _ please _ tell me.”

That finally broke through. Makoto looked up, and through the lenses of his glasses she saw eyes that looked lost and unconfident. Unconsciously she clenched her fists, and it was then that a sharp poke in her left palm reminded her:

_ The letter! _

By some miracle twist of fate, Ren had been teleported right in front of her, before she could tear the stupid thing to pieces over what appeared to be a colossal misunderstanding. The odds were  _ astronomical _ . Could this Mifune-san really have the foresight Ren was convinced she had? Or was this coincidence in motion? It didn’t matter - here he was, and she could finally put the letter in his hand…

But did she  _ want _ to?

It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t actually said anything of note once Ren had appeared. Once again, she had fallen into the miserable habit of speaking through a voice she couldn’t recognize to someone she cared about. And now, that same soundless voice was just going to hand him a letter, and be done with it? After  _ all _ this?

_ No _ , Johanna hissed, vibrating right behind her ear,  _ Let him hear your voice. _

_ Let him hear  _ **_our_ ** _ voice! _

Her left hand began to take a life of its own, and before she knew it, the envelope gasped its last breath as it was crunched into oblivion. She had read it and re-read it enough times to see it on the back of her eyelids, yet the words which had been scribbled out in a jumble of half-measured phrases and flowery language suddenly began to translate effortlessly into something palatable.

“There...Th-there isn’t anything you’ve done wrong,” she started, slowly finding the strength to look him dead in the eye again, words flowing out of her before her anxiety could stop her. “It’s  _ me _ . You’re right - things  _ have  _ been different between us, because I’ve struggled these past few months trying to-to put it into words, but I followed you here, " she admitted, which raises Ren's eyebrows, 'because I need to say it…Ren, before I met you I-I had settled on being the good girl who put aside everything, even what made me happy, to please everyone else, but you...you wouldn’t  _ let  _ me stay that way.”

Now it was Ren’s turn to play the stunned observer. His mouth opened a little as Makoto continued. “I’m an honor student, the Student Council President; my word against yours wasn’t even a contest. I knew your greatest secret...I had your  _ life _ in my hands...And you  _ still _ were willing to take that risk. It made me... _ mad _ , almost. What were you trying to prove? But getting to know you these last few months, I realize now that you weren’t trying to prove anything. You're the total opposite of me: brave, strong, independent. I want to be like you so much, but more importantly…I want to be  _ with _ you all the time. But I didn't know how to do that, so I just kept it inside, telling myself these last few months that I wasn't thinking straight. My relationships had always been transactional, only good for what I was worth to others...You were the first person who taught me that I  _ was _ good enough. A-and that’s what I want to be...Good enough for  _ you _ . R-Ren, I luh-l- !”

Too much! She clamped a hand over her mouth like a vice grip, blood rushing to her brain and making her dizzy. It was just like her to overachieve even in something as simple as confessing to someone. How did she manage to say  _ all  _ that?! If she didn't know any better she swore she could feel Johanna snickering at her from the depths. 

Makoto imagined she looked like a veritable volcano and tried to hide her face, content to never look Ren in the eye again, but everything erupted when she suddenly felt another hand delicately place itself over the one guarding her mouth.

_ Ren’s _ .

Slowly, carefully, Ren removed her hand, freeing her mouth to finish what she was saying. Or at least that’s what she thought - in unearthing her confession, she hadn’t noticed just as how close Ren had gotten, or that he had, most shocking of all, removed his hands from his pockets, freeing his other hand to brush against and cup her bloodshot cheek. It was cold, and Makoto couldn't help the flinch that caused a quake in her body. 

Time froze, giving the two teens an opportunity to bask in each other's presence. Somehow, Makoto found it in her to meet Ren's eyes again, and she was transported back to the school roof, falling for him all over again. Some unknown force welded her own eyes shut as Ren was now so close she could feel shallow, nervous breaths blow hot on her cheek. Then her lips. Just another second would pass, and then...and then…

_ “Mrrowr!” _

As close as Ren had been he was suddenly distanced, addressing the furry interloper that was now perched on his shoulder. “M-Morgana, where did you...!”

“I got  _ bored _ waiting around for you,” the conceited cat growled, lazily flicking at his ear. His feline features twisting into something strangely human was something Makoto was sure she had gotten used to by now, but it still felt weird months later. “Besides, someone had to put a stop to this! You think Phantom Thieves would  _ really _ be this lame in public?! I couldn’t let it continue.”

“Hey!” Makoto and Ren said at the same time, causing them both to look at each other before bursting out laughing. The laughter helped break the considerably steamy air surrounding the awkward scene. Makoto was still overwhelmed, over-emotional and a  _ bit _ over-heated, if she was honest, but this shared silly feeling was just the tension breaker the doctor had ordered.

As Morgana and Ren quarreled, Makoto finally took stock of their immediate area, noticing that nobody had even stopped to eavesdrop. Perhaps this was too common an occurrence for the experienced citizens of Shinjuku to care about? While she tried to regain her bearings, still in too much shock to really process what happened, she felt the familiar burn of a pair of eyes. Makoto gazed down the street to see, of all people, the fortune teller, a steaming paper cup in her hands. Staring into her eyes, Makoto felt a strange nostalgia, like she'd known the woman, Mifune, her whole life. The woman's placid expression melted into the smile of a proud mother hen, and she waved gently to Makoto, winking as she walked out of the main street and back down the alley, out of sight. A jolt went up Makoto's leg, leaving her shaken and wondering just what kind of power Ren was involving himself with. 

"Makoto? Hey, are you alright?" It was Ren, no doubt thinking she was having some sort of episode. Trying to juggle the wild rainbow of emotions pulsing in her brain, Makoto chose the logical route. 

“M-maybe Mona’s right,” Makoto said quietly, a mild tremor in her voice, “We should...We should make some time for ourselves, in the future, wouldn’t you say?” Makoto’s left hand slowly removed itself from her back as the envelope became more and more crumpled with each passing squeeze, hardly noticeable in her hand. Had she somehow drained the power out of the letter into her own voice? She found it hard to doubt anything now. 

Ren just nodded in agreement, his smile finally back to its traditionally overconfident self. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan. It’s getting late, maybe we ought to start thinking about heading back?”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Makoto hissed, quickly taking the lead and moving toward the train station entrance, hoping that putting some distance between herself and Ren might somehow help her process the  _ sheer insanity _ that had just occurred. 

Somehow, the voice she had always wanted to have  _ finally _ came out. No stutters, no half-truths - just her heart. There were hardly any more words left to describe the elation she felt, a euphoric feeling that she could only assume Ren shared, as he was being relatively quiet too. Was this real? A quick pinch through the sleeve of her white shirt disproved that theory. Her true voice hasn't brought ruin or danger, but joy and happiness. Magic was the only explanation - fate working overtime in her favor, for a change. 

And the future was so  _ bright.  _

As her insides danced around like crazy, she hardly noticed where she was going and very nearly stepped onto the up escalator once she entered the station proper.

“ _ Woah!” _

Before she found herself a victim of the same destiny she had just been singing the praises of, a warm hand suddenly grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back to reality and the importance of watching where one was going. 

“Careful now,” he nearly purred as Makoto stepped back from the escalator platform. Burning with embarrassment, she muttered a tiny thanks before going down the right staircase, Ren close behind. Great, she thought, way to dispel any notion of trying to impress the guy you like. 

As she began to mentally flog herself, Makoto gasped as a lithe set of fingers suddenly nudged in between hers, settling comfortably around her left hand. Her face flushed like a dying star, Makoto turned to see Ren on the step behind her. He had lost the confidence but not the warmth in his smile, his own cheeks reddening quickly. 

“J-just in case,” he said quietly as they slowly descended, taking another moment to squeeze her hand. Makoto took a deep breath, the redness of her face feeling like it was going to be a permanent mainstay, and shyly squeezed his hand back. 

"I…" Inside, a newly lit fire raged, the cold embers of years past finally giving way to a new spark. "I wouldn't want it any other way!"


End file.
